


Two Left Feet

by handahbear



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Clubbing, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1572545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handahbear/pseuds/handahbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Les Amis go clubbing and E drags his feet the whole way but they get to the club and turns out he's an amazing dancer and R needs to excuse himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Left Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endofnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofnight/gifts).



> For the moon of my life, Sarah.

The DJ was terrible, Grantaire thought as he downed the remainder of his beer. Courfeyrac had persuaded them into stopping at Décoller, even if it were only for half an hour. The drinks were cheap and there was no cover charge, so none of them had put up too much of a fight, with the exception of Enjolras, who had been dragging his feet about going out with them at all.

Combeferre must have said something to convince him, because regardless of how much he had protested about going clubbing with them at all, he had shown up when they met at Courfeyrac’s apartment. Grantaire had to admit that he looked good. Tight jeans and a plain t-shirt had always looked good on Enjolras. He would look even better, Grantaire thought, if he would give some indication that he wasn’t loathing the whole experience.

Enjolras had loudly insisted that no matter what happened, he would not be dancing, although Combeferre and Courfeyrac had exchanged a look that clearly said they would try their best to persuade him otherwise and Jehan had assured him that at some point in the night’s festivities he would manage to drag Enjolras onto a dance floor. So far, Enjolras had managed to stay true to his word, lingering at the edges of the room, sometimes sitting at one of the tables with Combeferre or Feuilly, and at other times walking along the edges of the dance floor, looking for one of their friends to pull away from the crowd for a moment.

Grantaire smiled as Enjolras passed by him and took the barstool next to him. He was always pleased to see Enjolras, and the two of them had managed to drift into a form of friendship. Grantaire had decided that he could be content with friendship, even though his own feelings for Enjolras ran deeper than that.

"You look like you’re having the time of your life," Grantaire teased, contemplating ordering another drink and deciding against it.

Enjolras grimaced. He gestured towards the dance floor with one hand. “This isn’t really my thing,” he said, voice pitched louder than strictly necessary to be heard over the music.

"Really? I had no idea," he grinned.

"What about you? Enjoying yourself?"

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s not so bad. The drinks are cheap, but the music is awful.”

"Do you dance?" Enjolras asked, looking over at him curiously. 

"I like to," he replied. He paused, smiling. "Clearly you don’t."

Enjolras frowned slightly. “I’m just not very good at it,” he replied, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"Is that why you told everyone in no uncertain terms that nothing they could say or do would persuade you to get out on that dance floor?"

"It had something to do with it, yes."

"You’re probably a better dancer than you think."

"I have two left feet."

"I sincerely doubt that that is true."

"I can assure you that it is."

They were silent for a moment, as Grantaire watched the people on the dance floor and Enjolras checked his phone. Grantaire glanced over at Enjolras, an idea forming in his mind.

"Prove me wrong."

"What?" Enjolras looked up from his phone, slightly puzzled.

"Prove me wrong. Dance with me, and show me that you can’t dance."

"I really don’t think this qualifies as dancing," Enjolras made a face, watching the dancers on the floor begin to grind against each other as the song changed.

"After this song, then," Grantaire coaxed. "No one will even be paying attention to you. There’s too many people out there for that. It’d just be you and me.”

"Like you won’t tell everyone how bad I am," Enjolras laughed, not unkindly.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Grantaire said solemnly. 

Enjolras simply looked at him for a moment, an expression of contemplation on his face, before nodding. “After this song, one dance. And if you laugh at me, I’m stopping immediately.”

"I won’t laugh at you, I promise," he grinned.

Enjolras smiled back at him and nodded again. “Deal.”

They sat together until the song ended and Grantaire stood, offering Enjolras his hand.

"Come on," he smiled. "Let’s dance."

The song was faster than the one playing before, and slightly more conducive to a form of dance with less grinding (although Grantaire would not have terribly minded a song with more potential for grinding, he counted himself incredibly and unaccountably lucky to have gotten Enjolras to dance with him at all.)

Grantaire walked onto the floor first, making sure that Enjolras was with him and that he could still see him. Grinning, he began to dance, waiting for Enjolras to join him. Grantaire was a natural dancer, even in a club setting. He had a natural grace that didn’t seem to be diminished even by the (sometimes, frankly ridiculous) type of dancing that happened at clubs like Décoller.

Enjolras stepped out onto the floor with him, staying close to him so as not to lose him.

Grantaire nearly stopped moving entirely once Enjolras started to dance. 

He’d had no idea. He had been fairly certain that Enjolras wouldn’t be the worst dancer he’d ever seen, but there was something about the way that Enjolras was moving that made him unable to look away. 

Enjolras was an excellent dancer.

The song ended faster than Grantaire thought it would, and Enjolras was suddenly very, very close to him, and practically shouting in his ear, “I told you I wasn’t very good.”

Grantaire shouted back, “You just proved me right. That was…Enjolras…”

The next song began, something more similar to the songs that had been playing before they had hit the floor, and Grantaire couldn’t stop himself from asking, “One more?”

To his surprise, Enjolras grinned back. “Just this one. Maybe now you’ll see how terrible I am.”

Grantaire smiled, stepping behind him and resting his hands lightly on Enjolras’s hips. Enjolras looked back at him, slightly confused. 

"You did agree to dance with me," he replied, still smiling. A small part of his mind was telling him that this was a very, very bad idea, but the larger part of his mind that was telling him that he should seize the moment. "That makes me your partner for this dance, doesn’t it?"

Smiling back, Enjolras nodded. “You’re stuck with me, then.”

Grantaire had anticipated more of the dancing they had done before, only in closer proximity to one another.

He was wrong.

God help him, Enjolras was grinding against him, one of Enjolras’s hands on top of his and the other cupping the back of Grantaire’s neck. Grantaire was fairly certain he’d forgotten how to breathe, although the rest of his body seemed to be doing just fine as he moved against Enjolras.

He was going to have to excuse himself soon if the song didn’t end.

The song ended, and Enjolras was turning to face him, smiling. Grantaire stepped back slightly as he smiled back and fought against the instinct to bolt away from Enjolras and lock himself in the nearest bathroom for a while.

"Have I convinced you yet?" Enjolras asked.

"Definitely not," Grantaire laughed. "You were excellent." He paused, just looking at Enjolras for a moment, at the way his shirt clung to his torso and at the bead of sweat that was currently rolling down his neck. Mentally, he shook himself. "I need another drink. Do you want anything?"

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond as Courfeyrac appeared to his left. 

"Were you dancing? And I didn’t see it?" Courfeyrac asked.

Grantaire gave Enjolras a last smile and worked his way to the outside of the floor, leaving Enjolras with Courfeyrac.

Having effectively excused himself, Grantaire pushed his way through the crowd, finding an unoccupied bathroom and locking the door behind him as he slumped against the door. Grantaire had told himself that he could be content with just being friends with Enjolras. He would never want to force his feelings on Enjolras, but after this, after having felt what Enjolras’s body would feel like pressed up against his, he wasn’t sure he stood a chance of managing to keep his feelings to himself.

Grantaire was so fucked.


End file.
